


The Secrets We Tell Ourselves

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Coming on demand, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Secret Relationship, condom use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 18:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry and Draco are having a clandestine affair.





	The Secrets We Tell Ourselves

Draco leaned over the bar, trying to catch the barman’s eye. 

The muggle club he’d found himself was vast, overheated and the beat of the music thrummed over his skin. The bar was sticky against his drumming fingertips, and his clothes were damp, a line of sweat trickling down his back. The light flashed around him, a garish acid green that lent the night a further air of unreality. After just half an hours dancing Draco could feel the adrenaline course though his veins, feel the race of his heart in his chest, and the excitement twist in his throat. 

The black-haired muggle behind the bar gave Draco an appreciative glance, the tight muscles in his shoulder twisting in his tight tee shirt as he poured the measure of whiskey. He grinned as he slid the whiskey over the slick surface, his body language open and seductive. On any other night, Draco knew that he’d have been sorely tempted. 

“That’ll be £6.00, d’you want me to start a tab?” the muggle asked, “and is there anything else you’ll be requiring tonight?”

“No. There’s _nothing_ else he’ll be requiring, matey. Put the whiskey on mine, and while you’re at it, go ahead and pour me out a glass too.”

Draco looked up at the deep-voiced man who’d sat on the stool beside him, watching as he managed his bizarrely coloured muggle money with aplomb. 

The fucking _Saviour_ of them all stood there in his faded, ripped black jeans and a clinging leather jacket that looked to be about thirty years old. 

Harry Potter pushed his ridiculous wire-framed glasses up his nose as he took in Draco’s sweaty, dishevelled appearance, tousled hair and skinny jeans. Far stronger and more muscular than the skinny boy he’d been at seventeen, Harry’s built torso tapered attractively into his trousers. Even in this beer-sticky club, Draco clearly smelt the rich, woody aftershave that Harry had worn, and he couldn’t help but shamelessly drag in a deep breath. Draco swallowed a mouthful of the whiskey, appalled at the burn of the cheap liquor against his tongue. 

“You came then,” Potter said simply. “Wasn’t sure you would, that hissy fit you pulled last time. Storming out, calling me an arse.”

“I’m an adult. Well able to take care of myself,” Draco replied carefully, looking into Harry’s viridescent green eyes. “You start poking your do-gooder wand into my business, then we’re finished. I’ve made that clear. You’re a nice shag, Potter but I’m not on the lookout for a boyfriend. And I don’t need a best-friend either.”

“No. Stupid of me to have presumed, Draco.” Harry’s lip curled in a defensive manner. “You fuck somebody eight- _nine?_ \- times, and you think you’re entitled to a conversation.” 

_Bloody Potter_ , Draco thought, growing annoyed. What they had together was bloody _superb_. Sex without any additional relationship. And there Harry was, pushing at the boundaries once again. Draco didn’t need a boyfriend, didn’t need Sunday-fucking-lunches or Valentine’s Day cards. Didn’t want to ruin his precious morning rituals or get woken up by some speccy git stealing the bedsheets. 

“Yet, here you are Potter. Once again. It would seem even my worst tantrums aren’t enough to scare you off.” Draco looked over Harry, taking in his aggravating smirk and the rough, uncontrollable curls that framed his face. _Life was too short for petty, needling discussions_ , he decided. Not when the merchandise on offer was quite that fit, and the evening was passing them by. 

“If it’s any consolation, I was delighted to see your owl summoning me,” Draco admitted. “Two weeks is far too long to be without the diversion of your gorgeous cock. Just a pity about the rest of the wizard joined to it, but there’s a downside to every silver lining.”

Harry laughed at Draco’s admission, holding up his hand out for the barman to bring him a second round. “Always so fucking quick with the quips, aren't you Malfoy?” he said, draining the last of his first glass. “Funny, clever… And so _bloody_ closed off. You just won’t let anyone close, will you? Too scared to feel anything real. Okay, I’ll bite. If fucking is the closest you’ll let me get to you, then so be it.” 

“That’s the _spirit_ , Potter,” Draco answered smoothly, leaning over to run a light fingertip over Harry’s leather-clad forearm. “Embrace your inner sensualist. If you see something- or someone- you like, then just take it. You don’t have to be a hero every moment of your life.” As he spoke, Draco continued to walk his fingers up Harry’s arm, and he gave the thick bicep of the Lead Auror a pinch. “I won’t tell the _Prophet_ if you don’t-”

“Don’t give a fuck about the _Prophet_ ,” Harry muttered, emptying his second glass in one mouthful. Draco swallowed his triumphant grin, registering the gruff tone Harry had used to reply. This fucking _goldenboy_ was so simple to win over, and Draco knew Harry was already his for the taking. Even so, he couldn’t resist a little more teasing. He moved his fingers to slowly brush through the soft black hairs that dotted Harry’s exposed clavicle

“But I'll make some small talk if it’ll assuage that big, morality complex that you _so_ delight in,” Draco continued, fingers skimming downwards over the thin cotton on Harry’s tee-shirt till they settled on a swollen, pebbled nipple. 

Draco squeezed it lightly, gleefully noticing the deep gulp that Harry took as he did so. The other man’s face remained impassive, but four months of surreptitious meetings, of delightful sex in anonymous muggle hotels had alerted Draco to all of Harry’s atrociously obvious tells. 

“So then, what shall we talk about?… Wizengamot legislation? Or our careers perhaps? Maybe our families?” With each item on Draco’s list, he pinched Harry’s nipple harder, enjoying the dark, lust-blown eyes of the other man, and the shudder of their magic which tingled between them. Draco loved to drive Harry to distraction. It never failed to provoke an extremely gratifying response from the sanctimonious git next to him. 

“You’re a bloody menace, you realise that? You shouldn’t be fucking _allowed_ ,” Harry all but growled. Draco would have liked to bait Potter further, to pry until the other man really lost his temper but he wanted Harry to shag him as soon as humanly possible. 

Draco winked, and slid his body impossibly closer to Harry’s own. He pulled his hand away from Harry’s nipple, and snaked them under the leather jacket. Harry’s torso was powerful, and he radiated a scalding body heat. Pushing his body close, Draco let Harry feel his hard cock, pushing against the buttons of his skinny jeans. 

“Okay,” Draco agreed, his breath hitching. “So no more small talk… This isn’t a _date_ , after all. How about we skip the talking altogether. I didn’t come here looking for conversation. For all your self-righteous posturing, Harry, you’re going to take me to the toilet now, and Side-Apparate me to whichever grimy muggle hotel you’ve chosen for tonight.” 

“No more small talk then,” Harry agreed in a low rasp. 

Draco could see the effect his touches were having, could see the Saviour discreetly palming the swell of his monster cock where it tented his tight trousers. Draco knew from previous experience what a beautiful sight it was to behold, and quite unable to resist, gallantly moved Harry’s hand out of the way. Draco considered Harry’s cock to be _quite_ the wonder of the wizarding world, and under his stroking hand it felt girthy and defined, shamelessly stretching out the thin material to a simply obscene extent. Harry roughly gathered a handful of Draco’s white-blond hair and tipped his head back, capturing his mouth in a hard, ferocious kiss that seemed, momentarily, to pull all the air out of Draco’s lungs. 

“Agreed. Talking is overrated,” Draco muttered, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss and slanting his head toward the toilet door. “What do you say, Potter? Shall we?”

Harry only shrugged, his green eyes glittering, and his mouth set in a hard line. Draco knew that Potter battled with himself over their meetings, familiar as he was with his life being an open book for the whole world to read. Yet, since the fateful day they’d found each other again- in a West London coffee shop of all places- neither seemed to be able to give the other up. Tipping the barman, and taking Harry’s hand in a deliberate grip, Draco casually led his lover thought the club, and on towards the bathroom. 

Since the very second that Harry had sat down, Draco had known this moment was utterly inevitable. Potter was simply an addiction that got stronger with every secret, clandestine meeting, and every delectable fuck. 

~@~

Draco barely had time to resister their landing on the hotel bed, his head sill a twirling, spinning mess from the Apparition when Harry thrust him down easily down on his back against the quilted bedsheets. 

Harry crowded Draco closely, his hair wild and springing from the magic and his cheeks flushed a deep red. Potter looked as sexy as anything Draco had ever seen before, leering wantonly above him, _ridiculously_ confident and cocksure of himself in the bedroom. 

Harry pressed against Draco, laying waste to his mouth with only his tongue. Draco kissed back, determined to take control from the arrogant arse above him. He forced his tongue against Harry’s own, an obstinate push-and-pull that felt more like a scrap than any kind of endearment, determined to show _goldenboy_ he couldn’t be owned. Harry simply refused to be bested, though, and Draco soon saw lights in the very corner of his vision. Breaking the kiss before he passed out, Draco found himself gasping for air while Harry ploughed on, kissing and licking a line up his jawline. 

Draco wrapped his skinny arms and legs around Harry’s body, holding tight to the coiled strength of the man above him. Harry was relentless, effortlessly in control without seeming to even need a breath. As the Auror gave Draco’s earlobe a stinging bite, Draco knew he needed to get a hold of himself. The whole of their evening had been about this moment, the anticipation building between them in a circuitous dance. If Harry didn’t slow things down just a little, their night would be over before it had really begun. 

“Get off me for a sec,” he hissed, wriggling out from underneath his lover. “I’ve got lube and condoms in my bag.” Draco shuffled out from underneath Harry’s lascivious form, and _Accio’d_ the required items. “Nothing like being prepared.”

Harry laughed, _Vanishing_ their clothes into a messy pile beside the bed. Harry’s arousal was evident; his red, ruddy prick enormous and already damp with pre-come. He stroked himself once, twice, never once taking his hooded eyes away from Draco’s lithesome form. 

“Now you need to put it on me,” Harry demanded, laying back on the bed. “And do a good job, Malfoy. I’m not in the market for any blond-haired, grey-eyed surprises.”

“Merlin _forbid_ ,” Draco murmured as he unrolled the condom meticulously over Harry’s cock. He crawled on top of his lover, and pressed a deep kiss across the side of Harry’s face, nuzzling at the scratchy stubble and nipping the tender flesh beneath Harry’s ear. “Complications are messy. What we’ve got here is far too good to ruin-”

Draco’s next words were lost though. In one single, fluid move, Harry rolled them both over so that he was on top, and in complete control. He manoeuvred Draco onto his side, his whole face a mask of pure lust; eyes dilated wide and the colour high in his cheeks. 

“Though _you_ said talking was overrated?” Harry gritted out, lubing up his fingers. “You need to silence that quick mouth of yours, and let me prepare that perfect little arse that I’m about to fill.” Harry bent down to kiss Draco’s side, his stubble abrasive and hot against Draco’s skin whilst he thoroughly slicked up his cock. 

Draco was all set to reply with a clever comment about how much Harry seemed to appreciate his _quick mouth_ , but was shocked into silence by Harry pressing a crafty finger against his tightly furled arsehole. It felt fucking delicious, and Draco was once more reminded precisely why he kept replying to Harry’s owls. 

Draco couldn’t help but gasp aloud when his _goldenboy_ breached him with an unforgiving thrust of his hand whilst biting lightly on his tender nipple. Taking a shaky breath, Draco wriggled his backside as best he could against Harry’s hand. “I’m waiting Potter,” he hissed, impatient now he could feel the delectable stretch he was so addicted to. “Ready to get taken apart by your cock-”

“But not yet,” Harry teased, dancing a playful, finger around Draco’s rim before adding a second finger. “Your tasty arse is far too precious to me. What was it you said earlier? _Just a pity about the rest of the wizard joined to it_ ” Draco could feel the burn of Harry’s gaze on his body, and he shivered in the vividity of the moment. 

Harry was as relentless in the giving of pleasure as he seemed to be about every other aspect of his existence. Draco simply adored the silken, firm rhythm that Potter was using to open him wide and ready. Every stroke was careful, deep and utterly breath taking, and Draco felt the very edges of his consciousness start to blur. 

He’d never admit it aloud, but Harry was an incredible lover; both conscientious and considerate. Harry added a third finger as he finished speaking, and Draco felt his whole body loosen in pleasure. “My tasty arse is yours,” pleaded Draco with a tinge of desperation. “Why aren't you fucking it yet, you _bloody_ -”

Harry shushed Draco, tumbling him onto his back once more. 

He pushed Draco’s skinny knees up towards his pale, scarred chest, pressing the head of his enormous, latex cock into Draco’s primed arsehole. Draco pushed back, holding Harry’s seagrass green gaze while the other man grasped hold of his hips. The burn was an all-consuming, blissful torment that took a few long seconds to acclimatise to. Harry pushed forth then, until they were fully joined. This always felt momentous, taking every inch of Harry’s cock, and Draco knew, there and then that he was about get lost, consumed entirely by the intensity of his desire.

“Alright?” Harry rasped, and Draco nodded his assent. His lover slowly withdrew his cock and rammed it back in, over and over again. Harry was hard and relentless, his balls grinding into the Draco’s rosy round arse-cheeks with every thrust. Draco still gave as good as he got, as unwilling as ever to be a passive bystander. He gyrated his hips, fucking himself on Harry’s cock, meeting him stroke for stroke. Draco felt quite overcome by a tempest of sensation. The friction against his own cock felt delicious, sliding as it was against Harry’s stomach.

“So fucking _good_ ,” managed Draco, taking a deep, stuttering breath. Harry’s mouth seemed like it was everywhere too, finding his every responsive spot. Harry’s lush lips found Draco’s mouth, neck and jaw, hot and demanding with every kiss. 

Draco felt like his lover was breaking him into a thousand pieces, felt like Harry was exposing the very fibres of his being. Draco could see Harry’s face, see his fathomless dark eyes. He looked almost feral, almost animalistic with arousal. Draco’s balls were achingly tight, pressed hard against his body and his cock urged its release, the feeling nearly painful in its magnitude. 

“Draco, I want you to come for me. Do it now.” Harry demanded, and Draco was powerless to defy him. 

Draco coated Harry’s stomach and thighs with hot steams of come, groaning Harry’s name. In the very same moment he felt the pulsing of Harry’s own orgasm inside him, saw his lover’s eyes go glassy while he rode out his own joy. Draco’s skin was awash in their combined magic; felt the quiver of it undulate over his skin. Harry seemed to sense their joint vulnerability and pulled Draco close, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips before cautiously pulling out. 

~@~

Draco finished doing up his jeans before he looked in Harry’s direction. The silence between them was awkward and stained, but that was no different to any of their previous encounters. Once the wave of magic had dissipated neither man ever seemed to have a word to say to each other. 

Not that Draco _cared_ , of course. 

He doubted the Gryffindor idiot had much in the way of pillow talk. A quick _Scrougify_ on them both had cleaned up most of the mess, but he still felt a little sticky. He watched Harry out of the corner of his eye, observed the way his lover seemed almost timid as he removed and _Disappeared_ the condom. Harry shrugged on his jeans, and tee-shirt before sitting down heavily on the bed. Only then did he seek out Draco, fixing him with a forceful look.

“You don’t need to run away, Draco,” Harry said quietly, laying back against the headboard. “You could stay if you liked, have a beer. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

_Ugh_ , Draco thought. _Not this again_. Why did Harry always have to ruin what they had, try to make them into the friends they could never be? Draco plastered on a fake smile, and leant over to the sideboard to pick up his wand. He needed to leave before he did something stupid, like show emotion to Harry bloody Potter of all people

“Don’t think so, Potter. But if it’s any consolation I really needed that. Your cock ought to be prescribed by St. Mungo’s. Guaranteed to perk up even the most dismal of evenings.” Draco saw Harry roll his eyes at this comment, and it encouraged him to be slightly more stinging with his final comment. After all, they weren't friends 

“Cheerio _goldenboy!_ I’ll be on my way, and I'll let you get on with _Witch Weekly_ ’s number one bachelor. If only they knew!”

~@~

Draco Apparated away, landing on his feet in his flat off the side of Knockturn Alley. 

He could feel Harry’s come drying against his prick, and still taste the sweet combination of treacle and whiskey in his mouth that always reminded him of these stolen, luscious nights. Draco sighed, running the bath water and spelling it to be the right temperature. 

He reprimanded himself, annoyed at the way that Harry’s stupid _scar_ and stupid _smile_ seemed to be stuck to the inside of his brain. Harry might talk about wanting him to stay for a beer, or their having a conversation but Draco wasn’t any kind of fool. 

Seized, secret moments like tonight were really all he could expect. 

Draco slid down into the water, thinking back over his evening. There wasn’t any doubt that Harry had enjoyed himself, and had revelled in their encounter. He wondered just how long it’d be before his owl arrived, suggesting another hook-up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxx


End file.
